


199 - Actor Reader is Nick Grimshaw's BFF

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Cute meet, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 20:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “your an up and coming actress working in London, so your friends with British personalties e.g. Nick Grimshaw. Your introduce to Van/ the boys at glastonbury and play it pretty cool, leaving Van wanting you. Then you go to one of his shows act natural/laid back, attracting Van, leading him to impress you at the after show party.” “The instagram girl anon here :) I was thinking of something like Van not really getting it because he’s not really good with all that stuff and doesn’t really get how you can be famous just because you post nice pictures!” and “maybe use Lilly Aldridge interview with Wendy on YouTube about how she meet her husband Caleb from Kings of Leon as inspo?!?”





	199 - Actor Reader is Nick Grimshaw's BFF

Fame was certainly something you never sought. Your aim was to make people happy, glittery, and to hang out with as many pretty girls as possible. At local events you set up a small booth to give people space buns, sparkly faces, and very Instagram-worthy photographs. The photos you posted racked up the likes, and soon enough, you were getting offers from across the country to come and run tents at music festivals and private parties for A-listers. With those connections, it didn't take long before you were as famous as Matty Healy, Dua Lipa, and Zendaya (maybe only pre-Spiderman though).

The celebrity status was a nightmare, but you were grateful for any opportunity you got. It was how you were raised to be. Your name got you into the best parties and clubs, and backstage at any show you wanted. It was no longer a matter of applying to do jobs, people were booking you well in advance. So, when Glastonbury rolled around, you got to pick how you'd spend the time. Nick called and asked if you were going to work it, or if maybe you wanted to just have some actual time off to relax. He made a good case, and you eventually left your glittery business in the capable hands of your team. Your name assigned to the tent would be enough to draw a crowd.

Literally every single person seemed to know Nick. He was a bouncing ball of punchy energy and quick wit. You held back giggles as he threw you looks whenever someone hugged him that he clearly didn't identify as a friend. The people he did actually love though, were obvious.

"Van!" he all but squealed, and pulled you towards two guys leaning against a fence, out of the way of everyone else. As Nick approached, they both pushed their sunglasses onto their heads and smiled. The taller one hugged him first, then the shorter one. "Van, mate, how ya been? Larry! What's up? Guys, this is Y/N, givin' her a little V.I.P. tour," he said, mocking his own celebrity status.

Van stuck his hand out and shook yours; Larry did the same. If either of them recognised you, they didn't let on. You quietly listened to the boys catch up, looking around every so often. Van noticed your tuning out.

"Look a little dazed, love. Never been to something like this?" he asked. Bless.

"Oh, no, I have. I work things like this all the time," you answered quickly.

"You work in music?"

"No, more like… events…"

"Van, she's more famous than you. Where the fuck you been?" Nick laughed. Van and Larry looked at you, trying to place your face or your sparkling hair or anything about you. "Shall we head to the bar?"

…

Sitting at an outdoor table covered with a beautiful red and white striped umbrella, you continued to listen to the guys go on and on about a load of random stuff. You'd met so many people over the few years you'd been building your little empire, but so many of them blurred into the next. Faceless and unremarkable, famous but forgettable. Nick had always stood out from the others, but you'd never been able to pinpoint why. You trusted his judgement of people, so that was always going to make Van and Larry more likeable from the get go. But, as their conversation got more animated and more messy the more drinks were consumed, they became unique and beautiful in their own right. Especially Van.

You liked the way he kept running his hands through his hair. It was obviously habit, because the action did nothing to keep his fringe from falling in front of his face. His rabbit teeth and bad posture were more charming than they should have been, and his accent made you laugh. You could tell he thought he was winning you over. A defiant little trouble maker by nature yourself, you didn't want him to have that satisfaction.

When Nick and Larry were watching a video on Larry's phone, Van turned to you.

"So what are ya famous for? What do you do?"

"Mostly just walking around looking pretty," you answered with a grin. Van laughed.

"I don't disagree with that, but, like, seriously,"

"No, that's it. I just am super cute and glittery and have a great Instagram. That's it," you said with a shrug. Van narrowed his eyes at you 

"I don't believe you,"

"You don't believe that I'm super cute and glittery,"

"I don't believe that's what you did to get famous. And if ya so famous, how come I don't know you?"

You laughed and made a face. "Don't know. 'Cause you seem to be trapped in some weird nostalgic late 90s early 2000s haze of guitar rock and dreams of super stardom?" you said, waving your hands through the air and making a dramatic expression. Your sentence impressed Van and he watched you a little in awe. "Like, are you aware it's 2017? Like, you know Oasis aren't relevant anymore, right?" He took personal offence to that, sitting up straight and finishing his drink while glaring at you. God, you liked him.

"You're duckin' a lot of questions,"

"Am I?"

"Yeah. You're doin' my head in," he replied, smiling though.

"Sorry,"

"No, you ain't. Your pretty face is all fuckin' grins. You are trouble…" Van said, leaning in closer to you.

"Oh. Look. We're out of drinks," you said, standing suddenly. You looked at Van and waited for him to catch on. He stood and followed you to the bar.

Two shots each and you let him take your hand and lead you to wherever he wanted. You only stopped him once, to point out Alex Turner. "Is he eatin' chicken nuggets?" Van asked, his voice going all high pitched.

"Yeah… Wow… I wanna…"

"Lick his face? Me too," Van said, but kept pulling you along.

Hidden behind tents, Van pushed you up against a tree and kissed you hard. It was needy and drunk and beautiful. The glitter on your face transferred to his, and his cheekbones sparkled in the sun.

"Now can you please just tell me 'bout you?" he begged between kisses to your neck and collarbone. You laughed.

"You're cute, but your kisses aren't a truth potion or something," you replied. He stood up and frowned. Laughing again, you pulled him back to you, swapping places so he was against the tree. "You don't need to know anythin' about me to know this feels good, yeah?"

You gently bit a line up his neck, the touches turning to kisses that dragged along his jawbone to his mouth. He nodded into the kiss and you let his hands roam. From a tent nearby, you could hear The Smashing Pumpkin's Love. Then, Van's lips left yours.

"You're vibrating," he mumbled into your hair.

"Huh?"

"Your pocket's vibrating,"

"Oh!" you exclaimed, stepping away from him. Van almost fell forward without you to hold him up. You picked up the call. "Hey. What's up? … You're joking? … No, oh my god, no. Keep them there. I'll be there in like, ten, or whatever. Just keep them there!" Hanging up, you looked at Van. "Work. I've gotta go. See you around, yeah?"

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" he said, his voice breaking. You grinned and shook your head.

"Lovely to meet you, Van McCann."

You skipped away before he could do much else. It hurt a little bit to let him go, but there was something inside you that felt sure you'd see him again.

…

"Told ya I'd see you around," you said as you crashed onto the couch in the green room next to Van. He was covered in sweat, his button up sticking to his skin and begging to be ripped off him. He hadn't seen you enter the crowded room, but as soon as you sat down his face lit up in recognition. It had been a month since Glastonbury, but with the tension between you, it could have only been yesterday.

"You came to my show?!"

"Accidentally… but yeah. Only caught the tail end. Really get people all hyped up, don't you?"

"Yeah, we do. Did you like us though?"

Van's eyes were sparkling and his face was waiting in anticipation. You wondered how long it took him to get the glitter off his face from your first encounter. Maybe he let it stay, finding little pieces of you on his skin long after the tingle of your lips against his faded.

"I did. Really," you answered, letting your act drop just a little. Van smiled and relaxed back into the couch a little. "Are you not hugging me because you're-"

"Drenched in sweat and beer? Yeah. You're far too pretty to be ruined by this," he laughed, motioning to himself. You'd seen a cup of beer go flying over the crowd and land on stage, showering Van in the process. "Speaking of, you're less… sparkles… than at Glasto,"

"Good observation. I am. Also, more sober,"

"We should fix that then?"

You'd arrived at Catfish's show by accident. You were visiting a friend, and she knew someone that knew someone, and you'd happily gone along with it all, not listening for details such as band names. When you stood side of stage, you recognised Larry first. He seemed mostly amused that you'd somehow found your way back to Van.

In the green room, you let Van get you drunk a second time, and like the first, you disappeared together. His hotel was across the road from the venue, and the bed was a cloud of soft pillows and inviting sheets. Like he was giving you all the reasons he could to keep you near him, he focused hard on bringing you to orgasm, you giggled when he refused to come up for air.

"Don't really wanna suffocate you with my thighs," you joked, breathing heavily under the movement of Van's mouth. He laughed and mumbled something about it being a good way to go.

After, he watched you check your socials. His interest peaked when he saw how many followers you had on Instagram.

"You weren't joking… You really are famous for-"

"Being pretty and covering people in glitter, yeah,"

"How… How does that even happen? Like, not havin' a go or anythin', but it took forever for anyone to notice us and we were making good music. You just… went online and that was that?" he asked, sitting up a little. He really wasn't being accusatory, more curious than anything else; he honestly couldn't fathom the role social media had played in your career. You explained your business' history to him, and he listened intently. "You just wanna make people happy?" he asked when you were done.

"Yeah, exactly. Like you, right? You got music. I got glitter and face paint. Bit different, but still the same," you answered. He nodded, kissed you, and snuggled down.

By the time Van woke in the morning, you'd already snuck back to the after party. The feeling inside you still sure that you'd be able to find him again. But, just in case, you took one of the t-shirts off the hotel floor and held it close all night.

…

Maybe it was fate or maybe it was a meaningless coincidence. Who's to say why things unfold the way they do? But, the third time you crossed paths with Van McCann, you were wearing the t-shirt you'd stolen from him. Nick had told you that you lived close to Van so it shouldn't have come as a surprise to see him. He also said that Van had been on his case about you. "Know you're all spacy about fate and shit," he said, explaining why he'd not given Van your number. Van had followed your Instagram, but for reasons unknown hadn't used the app to message you. Maybe he trusted you enough to trust your faith in fate too.

You were in a bar playing pool when you felt someone come to stand next to you.

"Third time's a charm?" Van asked. You turned to him, grinning. He saw the shirt then. "Oi! I fuckin' wondered where that went? You stole from me?"

"Borrowed?" you tried.

"No, 'cause that would rely on you meaning to see me again, and clearly you fuckin' don't want that," he countered, his joking tone hiding a little bit of pain.

"I don't not want that. What happens, happens, you know?"

"No. I don't. But whatever. It's still good to see you," Van said warmly, pulling you into a hug. You missed his smell and his easy acceptance of you. He stayed close while you finished your game of pool, joking with your friends and fitting right in. After, you sat in a dark booth in the corner of the room and slowly drank, not aiming for delirium that time around.

"Saw you on telly," Van said. "You're like… really famous,"

"I saw you too. How does it feel to be a rockstar?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Don't feel like a rockstar. Still just me… More savings and better clothes is all." He was really just a breath of fresh air in a world slowly become more and more toxic. "Being home is good. Places like this pub. Used to come here when I was a kid, you know? Sneak in when everyone was too fucked to know I was underage. Try to hit on all the older girls. Walk home. Get yelled at by my mum. Go to bed happy,"

"You really are trapped in the past," you laughed.

"Maybe. What about you? Grimmy says you live close?"

"Is that what he says? What else does he say?"

Van looked at you carefully, his blue eyes a little sleepy in the warmth and comfort of his favourite place. "That you believe in fate like it's a religion. That you're a good person. Smart. Good to people,"

"What a glowing review," you replied, your voice lowering to a near whisper.

Van reached out across the table and laced his fingers through yours. You were a second away from asking for his phone when your friend came slamming into the table.

"Fuck! Y/N! We've got to go!" she said, pulling you up. Van quickly stood, following you as you were dragged away.

"What's happening?" you asked her, scared at the urgency.

"It's Tiff,"

"What? Is she okay?!"

"I don't know. Come on," she replied hailing a taxi. You looked back at Van as you climbed in after her.

"You'll find me," you called to him. He looked heartbroken, and you would have watched him through the window, but your attention had already turned to your friend to be filled in.

…

"How about you just like… call him?" Nick suggested. You'd visited him at work and had lived to regret it. Swinging side to side in the office chair, you stared at him.

"How about you just like… admit you wanna fuck Harry Styles?"

He laughed out loud and went red. "Yeah, fuck you, Y/N. I'm just saying…"

"No. If it has to be all set up and forced then it will never work and I don't have time for that," you snapped back. Nick snorted and put his hands up in defeat.

You were being stubborn, to the point of your own detriment. It should have been easy. You wanted Van. Very, very badly. He wanted you equally as much, but you just needed one more sign.

…

Handing your keys over to the valet, he froze in a state of decision making. At the same moment, someone had asked for their car. You held back a giggle and went to look away, but heard your name.

"Y/N?! Oh my fuckin' God. Come on!" Larry had your hand and was pulling you away before you could say anything. You threw your keys to the valet and turned to face Larry.

"Hi, Larry. How have you been? Good? Yeah?" you asked in a joke as he continued to pull you down the street. He glanced back briefly.

"Sorry. Hi. I'm good. We just need… Come on," he said. Turning around a corner, Larry started yelling. "Van! Van! Look!"

Van stepped out from where he was sheltering himself from the cold night air. He'd been standing in a doorway smoking. As soon as he saw you, he dropped his cigarette and walked over quickly. Without saying a word, he pressed himself to you, held your face in his hands and kissed you hard. You half kissed back, half laughed. He let you go. You'd left glitter on him again.

"Just give me your fuckin' number," he said, then curled his arms back around you. You laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, alright. Got a pen?"


End file.
